


Con Game Christmas

by SteampunkChuckster



Series: Chuck Versus the Con Game [2]
Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chuck Versus the Con Game, Chuck fic, Con Artists, ConVerse, Crime fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteampunkChuckster/pseuds/SteampunkChuckster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah Walker's forced to face her demons during the holiday season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Con Game Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second installment of the Chuck Versus the Con Game series, also known as the ConVerse.
> 
> Sarah Walker POV, Christmas fic
> 
> It takes place earlier on in Chuck and Sarah's con game partnership. The early days of the ConVerse. 
> 
> Enjoy!

"This seat taken?"

Sarah quirked an eyebrow and set her compostable coffee cup down, keeping her hands clasped tightly around it for warmth as she peered over her shoulder at the source of the voice. He was gesturing to the plush reading chair two feet away.

"Uh, no," she said with a polite but disinterested smile.

She turned back to the window and watched people pick up their pace along the sidewalks of downtown Buffalo as the snow began to fall heavier. As she brought the cup to her lips and let the hot liquid ease into her mouth and down her throat, she heard the man that had just sat down clear his throat.

Sarah merely took another sip.

"Falling pretty hard out there, isn't it?"

She sighed. "Mhm. It is."

"Yeah." He paused and she saw in her peripheral that he wiped his hands down his pant legs nervously, back and forth, back and forth, until he gave up doing that and instead folded his arms at his chest. He cleared his throat again. "Been snowing a lot here…in Buffalo…this year. Hasn't it?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Oh. Right. You not from here?"

She turned to look at him. His eyes were interested, warm, hopeful, but his lips were quivering, and his Adam's apple kept bobbing up and down. His Converse sneakers, inappropriate footwear for the snow quite honestly, were tapping nervously on the hardwood floor beneath them.

"No, I'm not," she finally answered. Withholding a roll of her eyes, she instead raised her eyebrows. "Are you?"

"No, I'm just visiting."

"Visiting Buffalo?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "Hottest vacation spot in the US, huh?"

"Ha!" He pointed at her, his grin crooked but luminous. She felt her spirit lift a little at the sight and silently cursed herself. Now was not the time for this. "Yeah. Not exactly Maui, is it? Actually, I have family here."

"That makes more sense."

"And you?"

She sent him a sharp look.

"I, uh…Gosh, I'm sorry. It's not any of my business why you're here. I'm a bit of an…I had Chinese food for lunch and I said no MSG but I think they must have put it in anyways." She raised an eyebrow as he worked his mouth open and closed rather like a suffocating fish. "Because MSG…makes you…never mind."

She smiled a little at the bashful way he looked down at his feet and slapped a little beat on his knees with his palms. "I got it, thanks."

"Right. 'Course ya did." His lips widened into a self-deprecating smile as he looked out of the window and took a deep breath.

Sarah heard the woman sitting at the table behind her fold up the newspaper she'd been reading and begin to stand from her chair.

"Uh, aren't you getting a drink?" she asked the gangly man who made a goofy picture sitting in the chair so low to the ground. His long legs were bent awkwardly so that his knees were almost at chest level and he was hunched a little forward. It made him look rather like a giant sitting in a chair made for a child.

His eyes flicked up to the woman standing behind her before dropping back down. "I was going to, but…Well, the truth is…You're…" He cleared his throat again and Sarah heard the woman's boot heels clicking as she walked to the exit of the coffee shop. "You caught my eye," the man continued.

Sarah's eyes fastened on him and she smiled a little. It wasn't the first time she'd heard something like that. The door opened and the sounds of a garbage truck driving by flooded the serene atmosphere inside of the shop, not quite overpowering the sound of the bell jingling.

The young woman waited until the door closed and the woman that sat behind her passed by the window at her right, disappearing from view shortly thereafter.

"Black Mamba has left the building," the man muttered under his breath.

She turned to raise an eyebrow at him.

"What?"

He returned her look, but then his eyes flicked to the side and back to her. "Sorry, uh…I'm a nerd." He blanched. "I shouldn't have—Gosh, I'm—I'll just leave you to your coffee, then. Not everyday I admit I'm a nerd to a beautiful girl in a coffee shop."

Sarah smirked and flicked her thumb over the lid's slot for drinking, popping the small bubble that formed there. "No, please." She giggled. "It's okay."

She tilted her head to the side and tapped her foot on the ground twice. There was a flicker in the man's brown eyes, so subtle that she almost missed it. "I, uh…you don't want me to leave?"

"Mm, I guess not."

"Is it because I called you beautiful?"

She laughed. "Maybe. Or maybe it's because I'm having a bad day and you've made me laugh."

He frowned a little, his brows knit. Then he scooted his chair a bit closer. It made an obnoxious sound as the legs scraped against the wood floors and he grimaced at the sound. He looked over his shoulder sheepishly at the glaring teenager behind the counter, then turned back and rubbed his hands on his pants again.

"Uh…" He dragged his hands down his face and sat up a bit straighter, seeming to have gathered his wits a little. "You said you're having a bad day? Anything I can help with?"

She gave him a grimacing smile and shrugged, sipping her coffee again. "No, probably not. But thank you."

"Nothing like a good cup o' Joe to warm away the worries, huh? And some peace and quiet?"

She sent him a look and he blushed again, grinning good-naturedly and leaning back a bit.

"Right. Minus the peace and quiet." He chuckled and shook his head. "I'm sorry. You probably get this a lot when you go places to be alone. Doofuses like me hounding you."

An attractive young man stood up from the table in the opposite corner, pulling on his trench coat and buttoning it, then tugging his brown beanie over his straight blonde hair. He slipped his computer bag over his shoulder and walked through the coffee shop and out of the door.

"Sidewinder is out," Sarah breathed under her breath as the door shut behind the young man.

"I mean…I don't wanna be like the other guys who probably approach you at bars and stuff, but would you believe me if I told you I'm nothing like any of them?"

"I'm not sure. It depends." She lowered her voice and almost whispered, "Coachwhip?"

"Coachwhip left about fifteen minutes ago."

Her shoulders sagged and she shut her eyes, leaning back against her chair. "That's the entire Serpent Society."

"Yup."

"Jesus _Christ_ , Chuck. Have we ever scraped by that close before?" Sarah rubbed a hand down her face and quite nearly chugged the rest of her coffee. Her fingers tingled and she felt adrenaline bursting through her body.

By the look on his face, Chuck seemed to be experiencing the same feeling. "We always get away, Sarah."

"Yeah, but—God, that was close."

"They were in here. With us." He swallowed thickly.

"I know. But, uh…Good call with the code names. What the hell is the Serpent Society anyways?" She watched him purse his lips and drum his fingers against his knees. "I don't want to know. It's from your stupid comic books, isn't it?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that. If I say yes, that's acknowledging that my comic books are stupid. If I say no, I might confuse you into thinking the Serpent Society isn't from comics, and it is."

Sarah swore Chuck enjoyed getting a rise out of her, so she gave him a short glare and shook her head, unable to keep the smile from twitching at the edges of her mouth. He must have noticed because he was grinning.

"Let's get out of here before they realize we aren't just a hot coffee enthusiast and a gutsy nerd, but the very same con team who beat them to a two million dollar prize." She stood up and tossed her empty coffee cup into the nearby compost bin. Chuck stood up behind her and reached down to pick up Sarah's messenger bag, hoisting the strap onto his shoulder and setting a hand to her back.

Sarah Walker feasted her eyes on the bag that hung at his side, knowing that she was a cool million dollars richer than she'd been because of what rested within that bag. And the scariest thing wasn't that they'd barely escaped with their lives, or even that they'd had to act their way out of being apprehended and killed by their rival con team. It was that Chuck had possession of their money and she trusted him intuitively. This was the best take they'd gotten in almost eight months. And she had every certainty that if he chose to tranq her and run, there'd be nothing she could do about it.

She trusted him so much that it worried her sometimes.

If Chuck Bartowski chose to betray her, it would be so easy— _too_ easy.

But he wouldn't do that. Never.

And so she walked beside him, her eyes scanning the streets and sidewalks as they trudged through the snow. If she saw any neon blonde woman, or the blonde guy with the beanie, or even the short, pretty brunette anywhere on the street, she'd know they'd lured them out to trap them. And perhaps there wouldn't even be time to do anything about it.

But so far, so good.

When she chanced a quick peek at Chuck's profile, she saw he was doing the same. Sometimes she wondered if she gave him enough credit. His acting prowess was impressive, the way he seemingly became an alternate universe version of himself—a nerdy but confident man with the ability to charm just about any woman if she's straight.

_Stop being a sucker, Sarah Walker._

"I gotta say, you were pretty impressive back there. You did a pretty convincing job pretending you weren't attracted to me," Chuck said. His face was impassive, his gaze still wandering along the streets and faces they passed.

"Oh, I wasn't pretending."

She smirked at the mirth reflected in his amber eyes.

"Oh? You weren't pretending? Then that means… _why, yes!_ " he said, dramatically. "Yes! That means those flirty smiles you gave me (not to mention the bedroom eyes) were real? Sarah Walker, I had no idea you felt that way about me." He gasped, setting a hand to his heart theatrically.

"Really, Chuck? Right now? You're going to do this right now…" She rolled her eyes and strung her arm through his, leading him along the crosswalk and meeting the eyes of the people in each car they passed.

"Do what?"

She wasn't in the mood for his affected innocence, especially since they weren't exactly out of the woods yet, so to speak. "Chuck, shut up for a sec." She felt him stiffen beside her and didn't care much at the moment.

A man who resembled Sidewinder from the coffee shop was pulling something out of the trunk of a parked car. Grabbing Chuck by his hand, she tugged him into the cafe they were passing and led him through the cramped tables.

"How many—uh, excuse me? Ma'am? Sir?" The waitress was hot on their heels as they moved towards the back of the restaurant. "Can I help you?"

"Sorry!" Chuck called over his shoulder.

They burst into the kitchen and moved through the apron-wearing cooks preparing food. She nearly missed getting a hot skillet swinging into her arm, but Chuck yanked her against him at the last second, saving her from getting a nasty burn on her bicep.

"Hey! You can't be in here!" one of the cooks called, and he went completely ignored.

"Where's the back door?" Sarah barked. A teenager blinked at her under his hair net, his hands covered in soapy water, and then he found a knife pointed at him. She wondered if he wet himself, the way his face changed and his eyelids flickered. But within a moment, he was gesturing over his shoulder, his arm rigid.

Sarah ran towards the back and felt Chuck's absence immediately. When she spun, she saw the computer nerd picking up pieces of lunchmeat and rolling them in slices of white cheese.

"What the fuck, Chuck?!"

He made a high-pitched sound of urgency and raced after her, taking a giant bite out of his makeshift sandwich. "But this is real, Italian capicola!" he yelled, scampering along behind her.

Sarah spotted a door tucked behind stacked compost containers. As they maneuvered around the bins and containers, Chuck shoved the rest of the snack in his mouth and moved in front of Sarah to open the door. As he turned the handle and pushed, it budged a little but wouldn't open.

There was a crash somewhere in the kitchen and loud yelling.

"Shit! Chuck! Open the door!" she whispered savagely.

"It's jammed or something!" The words came out so quickly it was compressed into one word. "Wait, wait, wait. Hold on."

Sarah knew immediately what he was going to do and she inwardly winced. This was not going to go well. But she'd let him try it anyways.

He moved a few feet back, took a deep breath, and barreled towards the door, leaping into the air and crashing his shoulder into it. The door burst open and cold air and snow swept into the room. Chuck disappeared with a loud yell and Sarah heard a cacophonous crash that sounded painful.

"Chuck?!"

She ran to the door and peered through. He was sprawled at the bottom of an icy staircase, half his body draped over a tin trash can. Luckily the lid was still in place and there wasn't much trash inside. There was a frozen grimace on his face, his legs up in the air and his arms brought close to his chest…almost like a possum playing dead. Thankfully the bag slung over his shoulder was still in one piece.

"Get up, Chuck. Come on. Let's go."

"Yeah, no. I'm okay. The, uh, concrete broke my fall, so I'm good."

The smile on his face made her grin for a second and she swallowed a giggle. He was ridiculous.

"Get up!" She bent down and smacked his shoulder, reaching down to help him up.

They scampered down the alleyway and onto a small, less populated street. Sarah looked up and down the street and spotted the ladder of a fire escape hanging about twelve feet off the ground in the alleyway nearby. "There!" she pointed. "Come on."

He followed behind her dutifully as they walked across the street quickly, but not too quickly, so as to not alert the people around them that they were afraid for their lives. "So why are we running?" Chuck asked, slipping his hand into hers. It was a bad habit he had. He'd take her hand during missions every once in awhile, even when it wasn't necessary for cover, and it made her want to snap at him. Would he be grabbing her hand if she were a guy? No, of course not. They were _partners_. They weren't dating. Holding hands was…

She shook her head to dispel those thoughts. She needed to focus on the here and now. And at the moment, Chuck holding her hand was doing nothing more than keeping her hand warm, so she ignored the rest of the context and slid into the alleyway. "Gimme a boost."

"Aye, aye." He knelt down and folded his hands together over his knee. She put her boot on his hands and in a flash, she was hoisted high enough to grab the ladder, her weight helping to bring it down. It was a practiced art form of theirs. They'd ended up on too many roofs to count.

She rushed up the ladder and onto the fire escape, not needing to look over her shoulder to know Chuck was following, but doing it anyways.

When she crested the roof of the building, she turned to watch as Chuck appeared. He burped a little and made a face. "Capicola is amazing but not before lots of running. Just…fyi."

"Good to know, Chuck," she breathed, shaking her head and walking to the edge of the roof. "Did you pull the ladder back up?"

"Of course I did, Sarah. It's me."

She smirked over her shoulder and crawled to her belly, peering up over the wall of the roof at the street below. Sidewinder stood at the door they'd just burst out of. As a couple passed by, he quickly shoved his pistol into the back of his jeans' waistband and exchanged a pleasantry with them, waving a little.

_Bastard._

She rolled onto her back and leaned her head against the wall, sighing and motioning for Chuck to join her. He did so, rolling onto his back and peering to the side at her. "What's the plan, mi capitan?"

"Oh, so _now_ I'm the captain? When we're in deadly situations, you're okay with me making all of the difficult decisions? When are you gonna start pulling your weight around here, huh?" she teased, trying to ease her own nerves.

"Is Sidewinder down there? Is that who you saw on the street before you pulled me into that cafe?"

She nodded, letting her eyes slip shut and folding her hands on her belly as she tried to formulate a plan. "My plan so far," she started, "is to stay here until he goes away."

"And if he doesn't go away?"

"Fuck if I know," she shrugged.

"Awesome." He rolled onto his belly so that he was half lying on top of her then stretched up to peek over the wall. Sarah opened her eyes and watched as his shirt rode up to reveal his muscled abdomen, the tan skin etched with a line of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his red and green plaid boxers.

"Yep!" he whispered. She jolted, shutting her eyes again, tapping her fingers against each other. "Black Mamba and Coachwhip have joined in the hunt, but they are walking down the street."

"In which direction?"

"Northeast."

"Good."

"Why? What's that mean?" He eased himself back behind the wall and peered down at her.

She shrugged. "Not much."

Chuck snorted and crawled back away from the wall, leaning against a metal air vent and brushing as much snow away from the ground as he could. It wasn't working. And they were already both pretty soaked through from lying in the grimy snow to peer over the wall, so it didn't make much difference.

Sarah crawled to join him and shivered. "How far are we from the motel?"

"Uh. Two miles. At the most."

"Which direction?" she asked, rolling her head to the side to glance up at him.

"The opposite of Northeast." His grin turned cheeky and she matched it.

"Perfect."

When they finally clamored down the fire escape a half hour later, the streets were a bit more crowded. It was midday and there was a pleasant amount of snow on the ground, clumped around light posts and gathered on the sides of the street against the curb.

The schools were on winter break, which meant that even though it wasn't the weekend, kids skipped around in their wintery hats, the balls hanging from the earflaps bouncing merrily as they hurried along the sidewalk in front of their parents.

"I get the first shower," Sarah said, pulling her coat tighter around her damp body as they neared their hotel.

"That's not even fair."

"Um, I came up with the plan."

"What, lying in gross snow on top of a roof for a half hour? _Anybody_ could have thought of that."

"Shut up!" She smacked him and pursed her lips to the side, looking away to try and veil her amusement.

They entered the small motel shoved between a grocery store and a laundromat and up the stairs to the third floor where their room was. The moment they piled in, Sarah went to the bathroom and turned on the tub, pulling the lever that triggered the shower head before walking back out into the main room.

Chuck had left the curtains closed and instead turned on the bedside lamps. He tugged his Converse from his feet and took his jacket off, hanging it in the closet as Sarah began doing the same. When Chuck pulled his sweater off, taking his t-shirt with it, she knew immediately what was about to happen.

"Chuck, you better not—!"

He laughed merrily and sprinted to the bathroom. She sprang after him but was too slow as the door slammed in her face. "You freaking ass hole!" Sarah laughed into the door, hitting her fist against it and jiggling the door handle with her other hand.

She could hear him laughing inside.

"Chuck Bartowski, I know how to unlock this damn door in two seconds flat. And I'm not promising I won't see something you don't want me to see if I d—"

The door opened and a wide-eyed, bemused Chuck appeared, still shirtless and a little damp, his hair extracurly from the melted snow. "You make a good point," he deadpanned, bowing and gracefully sweeping his arm for her to enter. "The shower is yours, spoiled brat."

"You must be feeling lucky, punk, calling a person who could kill you with her thumb and forefinger a spoiled brat."

"I coulda called you worse," he shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes and shoved him out of the bathroom, slamming the door in his face.

Sarah's shower took twenty minutes, and she spent most of it forcing herself to focus on the fact that she and Chuck were two million dollars richer. But for the first time ever, Sarah didn't feel the elation she usually felt. The adrenaline was dwindling under the hot jet of water, seeping down the drain along with the dirt and grime from the roof. One million dollars was plenty of money. But she realized something as she let the water run over her face.

She'd been in the con game professionally since she was a teenager. Back then, she pulled jobs to eat, to have a place to sleep, to replace the raggedy clothes or sneakers with split soles. But as she got better, as her father taught her more, and as she learned to take risks for a greater reward, her takes grew exponentially, the reward grew all the sweeter, and she would pull jobs that resulted in more money than she even knew what to do with. Her life began to revolve around the cons, and the money was just an added bonus. The adrenaline from the dangerous situations, being assured in her own intelligence and cunning, and everything else that came from the con game, kept her alive, kept her brimming with energy.

But then Chuck had literally climbed into her life, stumbled even, and things became skewed. She lived for the con, yes, but the money wasn't just hers anymore. The life wasn't just hers anymore. And for so many reasons, it was better this way.

What was she going to do with one million dollars? She had her equipment, she had enough money to stay in any and all of the swanky joints along the Mediterranean, in Monte Carlo, just about anywhere. But there was an itch she couldn't explain deep in her chest, where she couldn't reach. Perhaps an urge to stop bouncing around the globe.

Or maybe it was an urge to take the one million dollars and save it away somewhere, for later. But for what? Sarah lived day by day. It was the best lifestyle for her. The future, the long run, wasn't important. But there was a chance the con game would reach the level at which she'd no longer be able to keep up. She would need to _settle down_.

It gave her anxiety to think about settling down. Not with a man per se, but just…settling. Living in one place, an apartment, with her own furniture, hanging her clothes in a closet. And then what if there was a man? That was even more frightening.

When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, a towel tucked around her athletic form as steam billowed out behind her, she noticed Chuck sitting at the desk, writing on a notepad. He turned and looked at her over his shoulder. His eyes slid quickly down her form, down her long legs, before he looked away quickly.

"You took a pretty long shower there. Fall asleep?" She could feel his grin more than see it as he hunched over the desk. "Ha. Ha. It's all yours."

He didn't answer and she became curious. Looking up from her duffel bag, she raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. "What are you doing?"

"Hm?" He didn't look up. "Uh, making a list."

"A list?" She walked around the bed to stand over his shoulder, leaning down.

"Yep. What I wanna do with my half of the winnings." He beamed up at her.

"Oh, I'm eager to hear what this might be."

"Well, you're gonna have to continue being eager, I guess, 'cause I'm not telling you." He covered the notepad with his hand and sent her a shit-eating grin over his shoulder.

"You're keeping it from your partner? You better be joking, Chuck Bartowski." He merely pursed his lips in answer, so Sarah was forced to reach down and put her hands on top of his, leaning over him. "You better lift your hand up from that paper."

"Or what?"

"Seriously? It's just a list of things you're buying with the money. You always tell me what you're getting."

"I'm not telling you this time."

"Why not?" Sarah felt a bit hurt, and was annoyed because of it. What the hell was he hiding from her and why? If he was teasing, it was a stupid thing to tease about.

"It's a secret, Sarah. I'm sorry." He grinned again and she had half a mind to slap it off of his face.

"You're showing me." She tried to pry his fingers up and he yelped, reaching his other hand over and grabbing her wrist. "Chuck Bartowski, show me your damn list."

"I'm not showing you! NO!" He was laughing, and she couldn't help but love the sound of Chuck's laughter. It was the happiest sound she'd ever heard and every time it left her brimming. "Leave it!" He slapped her hand that was prying his fingers up gently, still laughing.

"Damn it, Chuck!" she laughed back, tugging harder on his hand and finally prying it up off the table.

Before she could see anything but the first letter of the first word in the list, he tore the paper off of the notepad and shoved it in his mouth.

"I wi' eat it 'e'ore I 'et 'ou 'ee it!" he said, muffled through the paper as he clamped his mouth shut. His eyes were absolutely sparkling as she stepped back and gasped.

"Did you just seriously fucking eat it?"

"I am swallowing it as we…" He swallowed. "Ahhh, speak." He opened his mouth and showed her that it was gone.

"You're disgusting!"

" _I'm_ disgusting!"

"I'm glad we agree."

"You ate a freaking goose bladder once. That wasn't disgusting at all. But me shoving a piece of paper into my mouth and swallowing it. Oooh, that's so disgusting!" He laughed loudly and suddenly his grin dimmed a bit as his eyes darted down to the towel that still, but just _barely_ , clung to her body.

She tried to keep from blushing, but knew she was unsuccessful. "Take your damn shower, then, ass hole." She turned to walk back to her duffel to get her clean clothes out, but looked over her shoulder at him again. "Don't think I'm not upset with you, though, for keeping that list from me. I thought we said no secrets."

"This is an important secret," he answered quietly. It was the sincerity in his words that upset her the most. What was so important that he had to keep it from her, the most important person in his life?

She knew she was being a bit full of herself thinking that way, but it was true, wasn't it? Chuck was the most important person in her life. He was her partner. And sometimes she thought of him as her friend. A confidant. Although she rarely confided in him. There was something too…intimate about it, at least to her.

Without answering, she pulled her clothes out of her bag and draped them on the bed. "You gonna shower or do I have to get dressed in front of you?" She lifted an eyebrow as he stumbled up from his chair, flashed a goofy smile, and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door.

Suddenly the door opened again and Chuck stood in the doorway, looking at her intensely, his brow furrowed and his mouth gaping a little.

"What? You gonna actually tell me y—"

Her snide remark was cut off when he crossed the room in three long strides, wrapped her in his arms, towel and all, and kissed her. All thoughts flew from her mind, and the only thing in the world she knew was that his lips were caressing hers tenderly, and his arms were strong around her body.

They both pulled away slowly and she glanced up at his face. His eyes were shut and his lips were still pursed. His fingers disentangled themselves from the damp towel still covering her figure.

When he opened his eyes, it was like a violent sandstorm was raging in them, and when he stepped back, the warmth of him left her immediately. "I—" His voice came out in a raspy breath.

He fled, disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door quickly, leaving her standing alone in the main room. Then the knot in the towel just under her armpit loosened and the towel fell to the ground at her feet.

She would have laughed at the timing if she wasn't so completely confused by what had just happened. What _had_ just happened?

Sarah gathered her wits enough to pull her clothes on, slipping into comfortable pajama pants and a t-shirt before sitting on the bed and staring blankly at the door Chuck had disappeared through.

The blank staring continued until Chuck reemerged ten minutes later. As soon as she saw him with the towel around his waist and his wet hair curling wildly on his head, she realized her lips had been tingling this whole time. She pursed them distractedly.

"I, uh…" Chuck stopped, his clothes bunched up in his hands. He quickly shoved them in his own duffel and grabbed his pajamas. "Just a second. I have…" He held up his finger and disappeared into the bathroom again.

Less than a minute later, he was back, shrugging a hoodie on and hurrying to the bed where she sat. She had to resist the temptation to cower back against the headboard as he neared.

"I wanted to…" He swallowed, cleared his throat, and swallowed again. With a long sigh, his shoulders slumped and he went to his duffel, tugging out a small wrapped package. When he came back, he sat beside her, stared at it for awhile in his lap, and offered it to her.

"What's this?" she asked, surprised by how strong her voice was.

"Merry Christmas."

Her eyes widened as she looked at it. She made no move to take it from him, instead folding her hands together in her lap. "Christmas?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's Christmas Eve. Did you forget?"

She swallowed thickly and turned her face away, suddenly assailed by an overwhelming barrage of memories, none of them pleasant.

She remembered that there had been colorful lights hung on nearly every roof, from every streetlight, in all of the shop windows downtown. There'd been wreaths everywhere, children stomping through snow on break from school. Of course it was Christmas. She knew it was Christmas. But she'd done a bang-up job ignoring it completely.

_Shit. It's Christmas._

For the first time since she could remember, she wasn't alone in a motel room hiding from the holidays, curled into a ball under her sheets, sometimes with earplugs in to block out the world. And she wouldn't reemerge until the day after, or even the day after that, when Christmas energy began to dwindle, the presents were unwrapped, the eggnog devoured, and the turkeys and hams inhaled.

Or whatever the hell regular people did to celebrate the accursed day.

The various state facilities Sarah had ended up at throughout the her childhood and teenage years would put up the crappy trees and hang a few popsicle stick ornaments up that the other children had made themselves. They'd all been so excited, filled with the Christmas spirit, appreciative when strangers donated unwrapped barbies, Polly Pockets, Tonka trucks and building blocks.

It was nice sometimes, sure. But she'd never gotten along with anyone. She never really wanted to. Her parents weren't lost. They'd known exactly where she was. At least her father had known. But he was too busy swindling sheiks. Her mother had disappeared when she was a toddler. She was alone when she didn't have to be. That was the worst part of the holidays. And that was why she never made friends with anyone else.

She had a parent; he just didn't care.

They'd forced her to join in on the schmaltzy carols, and she sang, she went through the motions of making everyone believe she gave a shit about the holiday activities, the chocolate covered pretzels and gingerbread houses. She even painted a nice tree once with a big, white-winged angel on the top once. But the more she included herself, the lonelier she became. Until finally, she broke out of there for the last time and went off on her own, using the skills she learned from her father when he would take her out of the facilities in the middle of the night and bring her along on his adventures for a few weeks before returning her again.

Sarah Walker learned fast; she always had. And at sixteen, living on her own was easy with the conning skills she'd picked up while on the road with her father. She never celebrated Christmas again.

So she spent the next ten or so years hiding from December, staying away from people and their 'Christmas spirit' or their 'holiday cheer', and it had suited her just fine. But now, here was Chuck, handing her a Christmas present.

It wasn't a Christmas present donated by some random person somewhere who felt bad that all children weren't as lucky as their own children; they thought they could make up for it by buying a five dollar toy and throwing it in a cardboard box.

This was something he'd picked out for her… _just for her_. Not because he felt bad for her, but because he wanted to. It was simple, and incredibly kind. And she despised herself for being a little angry with him.

"I can't."

His hand twitched a little. "Uh…what?"

"I'm sorry. I just…I don't do Christmas." She couldn't meet his gaze because she already knew what the confusion would look like. She could see in her mind's eye the way his brow was furrowed and his lips were working to try to find words.

"Wait. What do you mean you don't _do_ Christmas?"

"I don't celebrate it."

"Oh. I just assumed. Are you Jewish? Muslim? Uhh…Buddhist?"

"None of the above." _Sweet stupid man._ "I'm, uh—It's not about my religion, Chuck. I just…I don't celebrate Christmas. It's pointless and, honestly, I think it's a whole lot of bull shit. It's like…a get off free card or something. Treat people with charity and kindness during Christmastime so that you can be an unbelievably selfish prick to people the rest of the year."

When she shrugged and looked up at him, he'd pulled the present back into his lap and narrowed his eyes at her in confusion and…Was that amusement? Did he think she was joking?

"I'm serious, Chuck. You didn't need to get me that because I don't…" She shrugged again.

"But I _do_ so why don't you meet me halfway? You don't have to get me anything. You can just accept this from me, open it, say thank you, and we move on." He paused. "You're good at moving on."

There wasn't anything scathing in the way he said it, but the words stung. She knew exactly what he was referring to. The fact that he'd just, minutes before, kissed her while she was wrapped in a towel. Not just kissed, but… _kissed_. Toe curling kissed. The kind that little girls dreamed their boyfriends might give them someday, only to find nothing ever met their expectations. Chuck's kiss met and exceeded all expectations. But it wasn't supposed to happen. What better way to deal with it than to ignore its existence, to pretend it never happened? That's what people did when mistakes were made, right? Forget it ever happened, but never repeat it again?

"Chuck, thank you. That's very nice. But…no."

"Open the damn thing before I become angry." He leaned close to her, giving her the famous Bartowski eyebrow dance. (It wasn't famous exactly, but she knew it well enough.) "And you won't like me when I'm angry," he finished in a deep, threatening voice.

She snorted a bit and shook her head. "Sorry, Chuck. I can kick your ass, anyways, so threats don't work. You already know this."

"I do. Come on, what's wrong with Christmas anyway? What'd Christmas ever do to you? Sarah Walker didn't get the pony she wanted when she was a kid? She got a stocking filled with coal from Santa Claus?" He grinned, his tongue poking through his teeth.

Sarah blanched, glaring at him, and his grin died quickly.

"Sarah, I'm s—"

"Just drop it, Chuck. I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

"You're already in bed, Sarah."

"Then I'm going to _sleep_!" she snapped, getting up and tugging the sheets violently down the bed, jumping under them and yanking them back over her body. She spun away from him and glowered at the wall. What business was it of his, anyways? So what if the fat jolly bastard had given her coal instead of a stupid pony?

"Sarah, come on. Please. I don't mean any harm. I'm just trying to give you a Christmas present. To say thank you. I didn't mean to assume anything or make you upset or bring up some deep-seated issues you have with Christmas." He paused, sighing heavily. "I don't pretend to know what you've been through, who ruined the holiday for you, or…I don't know."

She stayed silent, the glower dimming into despondence, then sadness, and finally resignation. Sarah rolled over and propped herself up on her elbow, looking at him steadily. She could tell she had hurt him and it bothered her more than she was willing to admit.

"You're right. I have deep-seated issues with Christmas and I took it out on you." She paused, jutting her bottom lip out a bit and catching his eye. "Sorry."

She reached out and nudged his shoulder a bit with her fist.

Her heart lifted when he smiled softly, still looking down at the package in his hands as he turned it over. He shrugged. "All good in the hood. Literally. Because I'm wearing a hood."

Sarah suddenly let out a laugh that lingered far longer than any she remembered in the past. He joined in and shook his head at himself. She loved the way he blushed in the yellow lamplight, flicking at the bow on the package.

She sobered after awhile, the silence in the room comfortable now. But then everything tended to be comfortable where Chuck was concerned. Except for the uncomfortable things. Like his hand-holding habit, or that kiss, or the way he made her want to protect him when the only thing she knew how to protect was herself.

"Give me the damn present, then."

_There it is._

Chuck was grinning like a fool, his nose crinkling and his eyes shining, and she felt her heart ignite. She twisted her mouth to the side again and looked down, focusing on readjusting her position in the bed as she sat up beside him cross-legged.

He thrust the gift out to her again and she took it this time, cradling it in her lap for a moment and letting her fingers run over the smooth paper. She smiled inwardly as she pictured him hurriedly wrapping the gift himself, tying the bow, thinking it looked 'janky', then trying it again.

"You gonna open it? I promise it isn't just a box wrapped in paper. I hate it when people do that box in a box in a box in a box thing. It's all fun and games until the whole party ends up being the guests watching some jack ass cackle like a hyena while an extremely disgruntled person continues to unwrap box after box after box. It's stupid and annoying."

Sarah stared at him with her eyebrows raised. "Are you done?"

"Yes."

"Okay." She giggled and ripped the paper off with a skillful swipe of her nails, revealing a plain, brown box about the size of an apple.

"Impressive, Walker. So I guess now I know what kind of present opener you are." He chuckled a bit but she could only stare at him blankly. "You know, because there are people like you who tear the paper off as fast as they can. Then there are people who meticulously peel the tape, and unwrap the present as carefully as possible to preserve the wrapping paper." He paused. "Have you never gotten a present from anyone, Sarah? Jesus."

Sarah ducked her head, trying not to become frustrated with the situation. Chuck had no idea where she was coming from and that wasn't his fault, nor was it even his problem.

"You really haven't, have you?"

"Nope. Not really." She met his eyes squarely, watching him for any sign of pity or sympathy. She was surprised to find there was none. Only intense curiosity and an interesting flicker of understanding.

"Well, there's always a first for everything," he said softly. "So open it already."

She smirked self-deprecatingly and opened the box. Inside was a small figurine of a beautiful, blonde ballerina. She was adorned in a flowing blue skirt and matching top, her toes were pointed, one balancing on the base and the other bent at the knee, forming a sideways triangle with her legs. Her arms both reached above her head, creating a graceful oval above her head. There was a white feather in her hair and her lips were bright red. Blue dots surrounded the black pupils of her eye.

"What do you think?" he asked timidly. "I know it's glass, so it might break easily. But I thought, you know, it's portable, right? You can stick it in your suitcase wrapped in a cleaning cloth or something and it'll never be broken that way." When she didn't answer, too focused on his words and the feel of the glass against the pads of her fingers, he began to ramble.

"It's just that there was that one time we were scoping the Musée d'Orsay in Paris and there was that painting of the ballerinas in the blue dresses. I noticed you couldn't stop looking at it. And I wasn't sure if you just thought it was pretty, or if you really like ballerinas, or if it was the color blue you liked, so when I saw this—a pretty ballerina with a blue dress—I thought it was perfect, you know?" He gestured to the ballerina's head with a gentle finger, stroking it over the hair. "And she kinda looks like you. Blonde hair, blue eyes. I can see you as a ballerina, actually. Like, one of those kick ass ones. I've seen you fight and it's like…dancing, almost. I guess. I look like the freaking scarecrow from Wizard of Oz when I fight."

She let out a watery laugh, trying to keep her tears at bay. Instead of crying, she shrugged and smiled up at him. "It's beautiful, Chuck. And incredibly thoughtful." How had he noticed her staring at the Degas? _Dance Class at the Opéra_ was one of her favorites by him. And to have seen it up close, in person, was a wonder for her.

That was almost seven months ago, though, so how had he remembered after all this time?

"It was nothing," he shrugged. "You don't have to lug it around with you if you don't want to."

"No, I will. I will." The truth was blue was her favorite color. And in her wildest dreams as a little girl, when she was alone with her thoughts at night, eager to dream of lovely things for once, she'd wonder what it would be like if she were a ballerina. It was one of the only constants in her childhood.

And for Chuck to notice her fixation was a better gift than the tangible gift itself. So she leaned close to him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Chuck. Thank you so much." She grinned up at him and reached over to set it on the nightstand beside her bed.

A comfortable silence elapsed as Sarah became lost in her thoughts again.

Christmas was so much easier to face alone, or not face it, as the case had been for her. Nobody was there to pull her out of the dark cocoon to face the carolers or children shoving their privileged lives down her throat. But now she wasn't alone. Christmas was in a few hours and she wouldn't be hiding under the covers of the bed, waiting until tomorrow to come out…unless she could persuade Chuck to do the same, and that was doubtful.

He was too cheerful not to enjoy Christmastime.

With Chuck here she'd have to face it head on.

"Hey." She looked up at him as he reached over and bumped her elbow with his fist. "You okay?"

She gave him a close-mouthed smile and ducked her head. "I'm fine."

Silence again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chuck bashfully rub his hands down his legs. "I haven't been…truthful with you. I've been hiding stuff. Important stuff."

The sound of his voice startled her. It was sullen, halting…and all too quiet…it didn't sound like Chuck's voice. She scooted a little closer to him, eyes wide. She wanted to reassure him. He had no idea how many things she was hiding from him. She felt like a hypocrite for it, but she was a little hurt that he'd hidden something from _her_. Chuck wasn't a secretive person. He was open, and…talky.

"I wasn't exactly making a list like I told you. I was writing a note. Uh, well not really. I was more like…getting my thoughts down on paper. I know what I'm doing with my million. I've always known what I would do with it. I'm just trying to figure out how I'll do it."

She struggled to find her voice. "What are you doing with it?" she asked softly.

"I've hidden an important part of my life from you. And it's not that I don't trust you. It's just that it's so important that I'm…afraid. I've tried so hard to keep her out of this part of my life."

_Her? Who her?_ She was suddenly very nervous, terrified even.

"I thought I was keeping her safe by not telling you about her. Not that I think you'd ever hurt her. I know you wouldn't. I just…I wanted to be…sure."

There was the hurt again. She had no right to be hurt, really. Whoever this 'her' was, she was important enough for Chuck to want her to be safe. Going off and telling every person he met about 'her' wouldn't keep her safe. And Chuck had seen Sarah kill people, beat people with very little mercy, steal and lie, connive, manipulate. He'd seen some of the worst parts of her.

It was only natural for him to be afraid she might hurt someone important to him if their partnership was ever…severed. The ache in her chest grew as she realized Chuck must've thought of the possibility of their partnership splitting up. That was a painful thought. A very painful thought.

She would never _ever_ do anything to hurt Chuck. She couldn't now, no matter what happened. In less than a year, he'd crawled under her skin and there he remained, warm and…nice. Comfortable. _Safe_.

Sarah vowed quite suddenly that whoever this 'her' was would not only have Chuck's protection, but hers as well. She owed Chuck. And she wanted to show him that she respected their partnership.

Instead of saying that, she nodded. "Who is she?"

"My sister." Relief swept through her and she was annoyed by it. Who the hell cared if Chuck was married, or had some long lost girl he was in love with and wanted to protect? She didn't care. She shouldn't care.

But it didn't matter because it was his sister.

_He hid his sister from me?!_

"Ellie practically raised me when our parents left us. She's going to be a doctor, actually, which is…" A wistful smile played on his lips as he leaned back against the pillow. "She's gonna be a great doctor. Soon, I hope. And her husband—she's married—he's in med school, too. And he's a really great guy apparently, though I've only met him once. I don't, uh…" Chuck shrugged and the smile went away just as quickly as it had come. "Don't visit them much."

"You can't," Sarah said with a great amount of understanding, although she was stunned by the fact that he'd been hiding this important detail of his personal life from her for so long.

"Nope." He shrugged again. "But she understands. At least I think she does. She knows I'm alive, somewhere. I send her things once in awhile so that she knows I'm safe." He took a deep breath, his brow furrowed as he picked at a string hanging from the hem of his pajama pants. "You know, I feel terrible most days when I think of how I abandoned her, just like my parents did."

Sarah didn't exactly know how to answer him. She almost reached out to put her hand on his arm, but kept them resolutely folded in her lap.

"I send her things; money and birthday gifts. I sent her something for Christmas. And something for Devon. That's her husband. I call him Captain Awesome because he's…"

"Awesome?"

"Yeah." He grinned widely. "He looks like Captain America, minus the spandex suit and shield. Although, to be honest, I think he wears a lot of spandex. He works out a lot." Chuck shook his head and pursed his lips. "This time I feel like I have to do something really important…meaningful, you know?"

"Like what?"

"Ellie and Devon are looking for a house. Or at least, they were the last time I heard from them. Someday, they're gonna be amazing parents to an entire gaggle of freakin' healthy kids and I want them to have the right house. I can just see them walking into a place, you know, and falling in love with it, planning their future—Ellie's such a planner, too, always thinking about the future years and years in advance—and they're still paying for med school. What if they can't afford their dream house because of it?"

Everything clicked for Sarah and she was suddenly swept up in a wave of emotions that were unequivocally foreign to her. "Do you think she'd accept it?" she asked, having to clear her throat when she heard it break in the middle of her question.

Chuck didn't seem to notice, as lost in his own emotions as he was. He shook his head. "I don't know if she will. She's mad at me for getting involved in something so dangerous."

"She knows you're a conman? A criminal?" They both winced at her choice of words and she regretted them immediately when his face crumpled and he twisted his hands together.

"No. She—She thinks I'm with the government. Something top secret that keeps me traveling a lot. Something I'm not allowed to divulge to her, in case it puts her and Devon in danger." He took a shaky breath. "I hate the lies. But if she knew the truth, she'd hate me. And I couldn't live knowing Ellie hated me. She basically raised me, helped me get into college and everything."

Sarah bit her lip and watched him, a sudden question coming to her mind. She wondered how appropriate it was to ask him, but since he was already putting everything on the table…

"Chuck, are you helping her pay for med school? Is that why you're in the con game?"

He was silent. He didn't need to say anything, really.

"You got sucked in, though, didn't you?"

A shrug was the only answer she received. God, she'd never heard of a man who became a criminal for such an incredibly selfless reason. It was terrible, yet…incredibly moving. Sad, yet it left her with a kindled spark of hope in her chest.

"Does she know you are helping to put her through med school?"

"An anonymous donor. She wanted to be a doctor so badly that she decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I wonder sometimes if she knows it's me. I wonder if it makes her bitter or disgusted with herself, you know? Accepting my donation even though she's angry with me for never being around when she needs me." The sadness in his eyes was incredibly painful for Sarah to see. It was almost more than she could handle, so she looked away.

"I would have given my left leg to have someone like you looking out for me." Sarah froze. Had that just come out of her mouth? Eyes wide, she looked away and meant to get up from the bed, go to the bathroom or straighten the clothes in her duffel or do anything but admit that what she just let slip was her being absolutely honest.

"Sarah, why _do_ you hate Christmas so much?"

She was silent for nearly two minutes, but he never looked away, never repeated the question, never expressed any kind of impatience…He was purely Chuck. She felt the warmth of him even sitting two feet away.

"My mom left when I was a kid and my dad had his own lifestyle."

"You're dad's a conman, right?"

"Yeah. After my mom left us, he started going on more jobs, traveling a lot more, disappearing for days on end. The older I got, the worse he got at being there. A neighbor reported him and I was taken away while he was gone, put in a facility…I became a ward of the state." Sarah realized as she spoke that each word became more and more difficult to say, but she resigned herself to telling Chuck as much as possible. She owed him that much after he trusted her with Ellie. It meant more to her than she was willing to admit.

"My dad would pick me up here and there and we'd disappear for awhile together, pulling jobs on the road, swindling, conning, stealing…He taught me a lot of the things I know. But I ended up living in…I don't know, more facilities across California than I can remember. And Christmastime was so hokey and half-assed and just filled with…I don't know, I guess I was lonely. The other kids were nice and everything, but their parents had died or had given them away when they were first born. My dad hadn't done either of those things. I didn't realize it at the time, but now that I look back, I see it for what it really is, Chuck. I was a tool. He'd pick me up to pull his con jobs that required a little girl to melt the mark's heart. No one suspects a fellow who's just taking care of his cute little daughter, right?" She shook her head bitterly and covered her mouth with her fingers.

"I'm sorry. I get it, though. Even though there were people with you for Christmas, all the holiday spirit jargon and sappy carols and sentiments fell flat because you still felt totally alone." She felt Chuck's hand lightly stroke the back of hers and she tried not to flinch or pull away.

"Yep. After I got out of my last placement, I decided to ignore Christmas completely for the rest of my life. It isn't worth the hurt." She bit her lip to keep her eyes dry, but it wasn't helping much. Luckily only one single tear escaped, and it was on the cheek not facing Chuck.

"You can't run from Christmas, Walker. You can run from Valentine's Day. I did that a lot in my younger days, especially in high school. I just stayed away from anything heart-shaped and sappy love songs, and I cut class during fourth period when the candy grams were distributed."

That got a short chuckle out of her.

"But Christmas…You can't escape Christmas."

"I did for awhile there."

"Then I smacked you upside the head with it, didn't I?"

"Mm, appropriate imagery. I do feel a bit of a welt smarting right here," she teased, pointing to her left cheek where just a moment earlier a tear had left a trail.

Chuck grinned in response and sat up straight again. "I apologize."

"As you should."

He snorted and they were silent again for awhile. Sarah almost turned over to turn off her lamp when she noticed Chuck fidgeting a little. She watched him for a moment, and the kiss came back to her mind, unbidden. Forcibly shoving it back out of her mind, though still unable to fully rid herself of the memory of his lips moving against her, she instead bit her lip—a little harder than necessary.

"Chuck, I'm sure Ellie doesn't hate you."

He scoffed.

"I'm serious! I don't know her, but if she's anything like you, she's probably incapable of hating anyone. It's one of the most annoying things about you. If she raised you like you said, she still loves you. You're her brother, no matter what."

"I abandoned her."

"No, Chuck. You didn't. You're looking out for her, even though she might not be fully aware of it. You're taking care of her. Even though you can't always be there for her in person, you're there for her in nearly every other way…in every way that's important. I can't even imagine what it would be like to have someone care about me that much." She shook her head and stared at her hands folded in her lap. "You're a good brother. You're a good person."

"I'm a criminal, Sarah."

"Maybe, in the eyes of the law. Obviously, it's your choice…but if you _did_ tell your sister the truth about what you do, she'd eventually understand. She wouldn't hate you."

"That's just it, Sarah. The con game isn't what I do anymore…" Chuck paused, turning to look straight into her eyes. She forced herself to meet his steady gaze with one of her own, wondering if she was doing and saying the right things. She wanted to help him. She just wasn't sure how.

"…It's who I am."

She raised her eyebrows and nodded. Sarah had never related to anything so powerfully. It felt amazing hearing him say it out loud.

Suddenly, they heard loud singing accompanied by a whining fiddle and a tambourine outside in the street. Sarah groaned and fell backwards, burying her face in her pillow as Chuck laughed. "See?" she heard him say. "I told you. You can't escape Christmas."

"Shh mpph," she said, muffled into the pillow.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't hear you. What was that?"

She lifted her head. "I said 'shut up'."

"Mm. Thank you, Scrooge."

She glared at him, even though her smile took some of the heat out of it.

As soon as the carolers' voices dwindled, their singing drifting further and further down the street before it disappeared, Sarah got out of the bed and padded over to the dresser upon which the television stood. She pulled the bottom drawer open and took out the messenger bag with their prize nestled inside.

Then she walked back to the bed and crawled onto the mattress, folding her legs under her body as she met Chuck's gaze.

She felt no reservations, and certainly no regret, when she set the bag on his lap. "Merry Christmas, Chuck," she quite nearly whispered.

His face wrinkled in confusion as he ran his hand over the material of the bag.

"That's two million dollars in there. Maybe it's not that much in the scheme of things, but…Well, it's more than one million." Sarah couldn't help but smile as understanding blossomed on his handsome face and the widest grin she'd ever seen on his face spread until she feared he might burst.

She watched as he opened his mouth to say something. But he closed it again, apparently feeling that words wouldn't do the moment justice. She was inclined to agree with him there. So instead she leaned forward and hugged him quickly, bashfully turning over to turn off her lamp and snuggling into the sheets, her back to him.

She listened for a few minutes as he set the bag on the carpet beside the bed and crawled under the covers, turning off the lamp on his side and settling with a heavy sigh.

After some time, she flipped onto her back and sighed, aware that she'd just wished someone a merry Christmas for the first time in almost ten years.

She jumped a little when his warm hand folded over hers where it laid on the mattress beside her body. He held it tightly, his fingers wrapping around hers. She moved her hand so that their fingers interweaved.

"Thank you, Sarah. You—" Another sigh. "Merry Christmas."

Tears dripped from her eyes as she turned her face away. She squeezed his hand as hard as she could.

"Merry Christmas, Chuck."


End file.
